Worthy of a Marauder
by elisa-didlittle
Summary: Harry's in the Tri-Wizard Tournament. Ron betrayed him. Ron must pay. Harry gets his revenge and learns what it means "to be a Marauder". One-shot.


Disclaimer: I could be happy, the rest of my life, with my Cinnamon Girl.

* * *

"So Potter, ready to admit you're just a lying, cheating, cold dead beating, Two-timing, double dealing, mean mistreating-"

After four weeks of Ron's idiotic, childish Malfoy-ish taunting, Harry had finally had enough. He could put up with the glares and insults from the rest of the school. He had years of practice being the town pariah back in Little Whining. But betrayal was something else. _I didn't risk my life saving Ginny and then Ron just to be stabbed in the back by this faithless family. Maybe Malfoy had the right of it four years ago. Fine! You want to go up against the Son of Prongs? Bring it on, Weaselbee. I'll show you what it means to betray a Marauder!_

"Oh for Christ's sake just give it a rest already, Ron. I was waiting to tell you the news in December as a Christmas present of sorts, but clearly the Great Ron Weasley can't wait that long. The champions are each allowed one substitution for medical reasons. Hermione looked it up. So if you really want to be in one of the Tasks, you can."

Ron frowned in confusion for a moment before a large smile broke upon his face as he imagined himself a great champion, the perfect follow-up to his awesome 'Chess Match of Destiny' back in first year. 'Finally, people would see what Ron Weasley was made of. Everyone would stop paying attention to that Potter jerk and pay proper respect to a true hero, Ron Weasley. Yeah, a true hero.' But then as Ron further imagined his future glory , he realized it would just be more reflected glory. 'Potter was still the Champion. Even if I won the HeroicTask and saved a thousand damsels, Potter would still get the credit and the trophy and even more fame. Bastard Potter!' The smile on Ron's face turned into a nasty scowl.

"So, what? You gonna lie and cheat about being injured?" Ron sneered.

Harry almost growled. _I wish I'd kept that Troll's club so I could beat his ugly face in. Still, if setting up a prank was easy, everyone would be a Marauder._

"Nah, I'd just break my arm. Seamus even volunteered to help, 'cause I oogled his sister in her bathing suit last June. Of course, if he knew I got to second with her, he might want to break both of them," Harry chuckled.

"Yeah, like you'd really break your own arm just to get me in the tournament," Ron said sulkily. But Ron couldn't hide the glint of greed and cruelty in his eyes as he imagined all the painful things he wanted do to Harry to advance himself. _Gods, I sure can pick 'em,_ Harry thought in disgust.

"Jeez Louise, it's just an arm! I break at least three bones every Quidditch game. Hell, that time with Lockhart, he actually vanished over 200 bones. There's lots of bones in a hand, you know. Breaking one bone isn't a big deal."

"Sounds like a big deal." _Crikey, he's such a wimp! How'd he ever get into Gryffindor?_

"Oh, just you wait till you're on the Quidditch team. You'll be breaking bones and chugging potions like a pro." _You want glory? Take a risk and actually earn it, you whiner. Worse than Malfoy and the Hippogryff, he is._

Ron turned an interesting shade of green. "Yeah..." he whimpered. "When I'm on the team." _Ha! Not such a great hero when it's your bones on the line._

"Exactly! Ollie's gonna need a replacement next year. That could be you. You want on the team? Keeper's an important position. Not that dangerous, either." _Careful! Reel him in. Slowly..._

Ron perked up a bit at that. "Really?"

"Yeah. Last year, Ollie only averaged four broken bones each game. Though there was the time he got beaned in the head with both bludgers and couldn't talk right for a week. Well, he could say 'fugg' but that was about it. Remember when McGonagall took 1000 points off for bad language. Oh yeah, and then there was the time Flint whacked him the face with a beater's bat and knocked out 15 teeth and a piece of his nose. But he got most of them back and anyway girls don't care that much about good looks, or teeth or a straight nose. Not when there's Quidditch glory! Anyway that's nothing compared to falling off my broom twice and almost being kissed by dementors or killed by a cursed bludger. So an arm... feh, child's play, really." _Take that, you wannabe Lion._

Ron was starting to turn even greener, realizing that Hogwarts Varsity Quidditch was much more of a contact sport than playing touch pickup with the Hufflepuffs, or playing the odd summer feather-touch game with Hermione and Luna at the Burrow.

"So I can be a champion?" Ron changed the subject before he turned any greener.

"Yeah, for one Task. I'd pick the first one, though. They get harder as they go. The first is supposed to be the easiest."

"Really? Cool! Probably gonna be chess. Yeah, definitely chess. I'm so gonna win!" _What kind of lazy, coward armchair hero are you?_

"Uh, Ron, it's not gonna be chess. The Tri-Wizard's always about legendary Hero stuff. Man versus beast, flying a manticore, wrestling a giant, that kinda stuff. Not so bad, though. After three years here, it's kinda life as usual."

"Huh", Ron asked.

"Oh you know. Like the troll you wrestled in first year. Oh wait, that was me. Or fighting a wraith. Oh, me again. Or killing Quirrell. Hmm. Or stabbing a basilisk from inside it's mouth before he swallowed me. Hmmm, I guess it's mostly my life as usual." Harry thought for a moment before he brightened. "I know! It's like when you fought the Giant Spiders in the forest. Yeah, just like that. Giant Spiders. Remember the Giant Spiders? Giant Spiders weren't so bad. Sure it was a little scary back when we were second years, but we've grown up since then. Fourth years don't piss themselves over a bunch of bellicose bugs. So figure some Giant Spiders, a couple of those skrewt things, and maybe some hippogryffs. Oh, if Hagrid's picking the beasts, maybe Fluffy, too. You know how he likes to let his pets hunt now and then." _Oh man, did you see his face when I said 'Giant Spiders'? Ha! Giant Spiders, Giant Spiders, Giant Spiders. Still want to be a hero, Mr Moron Weasley?_

"Fluffy?" Ron whimpered. _Cool, the green is back! "I'm Melting!_"

"Well, I'm just guessing here. But you know Hagrid as well as I do. He likes his critters. But at least it's not like it was before. Not like back in the 1200's and the nude Gorgon mud wrestling. That didn't turn out that great."

"What happened?"

"Oh, the Hogwarts champion back then, another Finnegan - go figure - fingered her in her hoochie coochie. Kinda pissed her off, so she turned everyone to stone."

"Everyone?" Ron squeaked. _Gods, he actually squeaked!_

"Well, everyone that was looking, anyways. The champions, the students, the spectators, the Ministry VIP's. Yeah, everyone."

"That sounds... kinda bad." _Ron actually pulled at his collar and gulped. How long till he pukes on his shoes?_

"Yeah, well they didn't get another Gorgon after that. Of course, a hundred years later they got nundu's. That was worse."

"Worse?"

"Yeah. Happened at Beauxbatons. The French champion, a Malfoy, was throwing stones at the nundu's and pissed them off. I guess Malfoys haven't changed that much in 600 years. So the nundu's let off with their death breath. You know their breath causes pestilence, right. Killed off 2/3 of the people in Europe and Britain. The Muggles still call it the Black Death, but their breath not really black - kinda puke green. Anyway, that was the last time they let the Department of Magical Games and Sport pick a Tri-Wizard Task. Now the professors pick 'em. 'Course Hagrid does like his critters. And the French Head is even bigger than Hagrid, so no telling what she'd pick. And Karkaroff's a Death Eater, so he's liable to just throw killing curses and see what happens."

"Uhhhh." Ron was looking seriously green and woozy. _Almost there!_

"Anyway, I don't think it's gonna be anything like that." _Throw him a bone._

"You don't?" Ron perked up a bit.

"Nah. I ran into Charlie in the forest. He wouldn't say anything, you understand. But where there's Charlie, there's probably a dragon around. Or four. They're kinda loud."

"Dragons!" Ron whimpered. _Here we go._

"Well yeah. But if Charlie can do it, so can you. You're a Weasley too, right? And anyway, he only had half of his face in that orange burn paste."

"Burn paste!"

"Yeah. Charlie said he walked into a door, but I could tell. I've been Neville's Potions partner long enough to recognize Petzold's Perfect Peeling Paste. Kinda nasty, but at least your skin grows back. Kinda sucks if you can't get the stuff fast enough. Girls might not care about teeth or a straight nose, but they do tend to notice if your whole face is missing. I doubt even Eternal Glory will get 'em to look past charred flesh and bone. And then there's the burnt flesh smell that never really goes away."

Ron looked one step from puking all over his robes. _Just a little bit more,_ Harry smirked to himself.

"Anyway, dragons aren't that bad. Especially if you get a Swedish Short-Snout."

"Sweeth Portsmouth?" Ron looked a bit punch drunk, like he went a few rounds with George Foreman

"Yeah. About the only thing Sweden's good for is Volvos and cookies. The Short-Snout's a wee tyke of a dragon, not even a ton. All it's got is it's fire, so if you can run real fast it's not that bad. You're pretty fast on your feet, right Ron?"

Ron made an "Eeep" noise and tottered dangerously. _So close._

"Oops - that's me again. My bad. Well, you get the idea. Plus it's not like there's a lot of meat on your bones worth eating."

Harry thought he could hear the beginings of gagging. _Yay! Yay! Yay!_

"Hmm. Might be a good idea to go easy on those chocolate frogs for a while. And maybe cover yourself in dragon shit so it thinks you're a turd. Sure, it smells like a dead animal covered in puke baking in the sun, but it's for a good cause."

Ron started to hyperventilate. _Those idiot Slytherins don't know the meaning of taunting. I wonder how long I can stretch this out. Maybe I can make him shit in his pants before he faints._

"Just make sure you don't get the Chinese Fireball or the Horntail. That would be bad."

"Eeeee," Ron whimpered. His eyes were rolling about in his head. _He looks ready to faint. Kind of a shame, I'm just hitting my stride._

"Well, the Fireball is a fair bit bigger than the Short-Snout - hungrier, if catch my drift. And they shoot these really big and hot fireballs at you. Petzold's won't be able to save you from that, so try not to get burned unless you want to be all charred flesh and bones. Oh, and they spit acid, so try not to get spit on cause it'll dissolve you into a pile of goo."

Ron was now seriously gagging. _Just a little bit more. But Gods this was fun. I take back every uncharitable thing I ever thought about the Twins. This is so much better than gobstones!_

"Don't worry about that, though. It's not like they'd let you have an open casket funeral, not if you're just a pile of goo. The Ministry's pretty sensitive these days about not offending the public. They don't want them puking green vomit all over the stands. Chances are they'd just let the dragon eat you up and shit you out, if you get my meaning. Less problems that way and Professor Sprout gets some extra fertilizer."

Ron was on his knees now, make wretching noises. _Ah music, a magic beyond all we do here._

"Of course the Horntail's worse, so if you have a choice maybe the Fireball's not too bad."

Ron wasn't responding anymore, so Harry decided to just keep going.

"Yeah, the Horntail's the one to avoid. They weigh over 2 tons, have a really nasty disposition, and would just as soon tear you to pieces with their claws and jagged tail as burn you up or dissolve you into goo. Charlie said he saw a Horntail go medieval on his room-mate - dragon spent four hours pulling the flesh off the poor man's body before licking the bones clean."

"Pause," Ron begged, already curled up into a little ball on the ground, taking great big gulps of air as his stomach heaved. Harry smirked. _Just a little payback after four years of eating next to the Black Hole of Calcutta._

"Paws, claws. I don't really know. Charlie just said it took the guy hours to die. Said sometimes at night he can still hear the screams. Kind of like the sounds cats make when you rip their skin off while crushing their testicles. Hey, you want some cat balls?"

And just like that, Ron passed out with a whimpered sigh and a gush of green vomit. _Success!_ _I'm the Man!_ Harry looked down at his handiwork with an evil grin and the heartfelt satisfaction of a job well done.

But just then, Harry heard McGonagall calling "Mr Weasley!" from the other side of the lawn as she came running. _Damn!_

Harry's first reaction was to groan about his perfect prank being ruined, but then he recalled the old saying that no plan ever survives first contact with the enemy. Well, he was the Son of Prongs for a reason, and he could certainly think well enough on his feet. While a meticulously planned prank executed to perfection was a great thing, an extemporaneous prank pulled to perfection was even greater. For just then, an evil thought entered Harry's brain, and he could glimpse the shape of the truly monumental prank to come. Well, Ron wouldn't think so, but Harry was tired of hearing about what Mr Ronald Weasley thought. So Harry decided to trust his instincts and let his inner-Marauder out to play.

Harry waited for McGonagall as she ran across the lawn much faster than he would ever expect. _Damn she's pretty fast for an old biddy. Probably comes from teaching all those Weasleys._

Harry just looked at the unconscious red head on the ground as he continued to vomit. The puking slowed down a bit just as McGonagall arrived, but then an enormous wet fart ripped out, fouling the air. _Ugg, he makes Crabbe and Goyle look good._

"Hi, Professor McGonagall. Please don't hold it against Ron. He's really nervous," Harry said to the out-of-breath professor.

"What could possibly make him that nervous," she said looking at the fallen boy chewing on his own vomit in disgust.

"Well, he heard about the Tri-Wizard's substitution rule. He thought he could just ask me to bow out so he could compete in the First Task. Poor sod thought it was gonna be chess. Worst thing you could have done was use a chess obstacle back in the Philosopher Stone test. Now he thinks every dangerous challenge in his life is going to be chess."

McGonagall looked a bit shifty. "I don't know what you mean, Mr Potter."

Harry smiled. _Maybe I can score some brownie points for Hermione and me. _

"Oh, it's OK, Professor. I'm not an ickle Firstie anymore. The Headmaster wanted to know if I could rise to the occasion of standing against the Darkness to protect others. To be the hero that everyone thought I was. Sure, I was a little upset back then, but I've long since gotten over it. It's important to know what you're made of. Truth is, I'm actually quite appreciative of the effort you Professors went through to build a Gauntlet for a wee Firstie that looked terrifying but was actually pretty safe. And it certainly helped to build up my self-confidence... Hermione and me both. Hermione just gushes about what a wonderful Head of House you were to put that together for us."

"Really? I didn't know." McGonagall blushed. _Who'd have ever thought McG could blush?_

"Well, she didn't want to embarrass you, and officially it _was_ supposed to be off-limits. Don't be surprised though if she hugs the stuffing out of you at Graduation. She really was very touched."

"Such a sweet lass. Severus was sure you'd never figure it out."

"We may not be Ravenclaws but we're not complete fools. Well, Hermione and I. Ron's still convinced he saved the known world from utter destruction by beating a charmed chess set in 14 moves."

"It took him 14 moves?" McGonagall was surprised.

"He's not nearly as good as he thinks he is. But each year he spends hours recounting his 10 minute 'Mighty Match of Manliness' to the new Firsties. Remember those four kids that tried to transfer out of Gryffindor this year? A wee Firstie can only take so much."

"Oh the poor little tykes."

"Well it's gotten better. I asked Professor Sprout for some of her charmed ear muffs so they don't have to hear it anymore. She was a bit reluctant until I brought her into the Tower while Ron was waxing poetic about his 'Checkmate of Champions'. After half an hour she was begging me to take them."

"Ach, she always was a softy. At least Filius will finally know why Gryffindors are so proficient with silencing charms."

Harry and McGonagall both chuckled.

"Well, after I told Ron that the First Task was probably fighting a dragon-"

"Really, dragons?" McGonagall seemed to waver between worry and excitement. _I guess everyone likes a good show._

"Yeah," Harry said nodding. "The dragon keepers are hiding them in the forest, but well... they're dragons. They're not exactly quiet, are they? And I have a very good incentive to learn what's coming. So when I told Ron about the dragons, he got a bit squeamish."

McGonagall just sighed and shook her head. "I don't know how that child got into Gryffindor. An entire House of the brave and the noble, and one braggart who's scared of his own shadow."

"Then he fell to the ground and was sick all over, but he surprisingly managed to stay conscious. Until you came by."

"Dear Lord, what's he done now?" McGonagall looked resigned.

"It's not so much what he's done as what he's going to do. Ahhh... no easy way to say this. Ron's been trying to work up the courage to ask you to the Yule Ball." _Oh my God! I am too good. I'm the bomb._

McGonagall looked shocked and not a little green herself. "He wants me to be his date to the Yule Ball? Besides being highly illegal and completely inappropriate, he's never given me a hint that he feels that way."

Harry shook his head frantically looking horribly embarrassed. _Milk it. Milk it._

"He doesn't have feelings for you in that regard, Professor. He... ahhhh... he has feelings in that regard for his Mum. He actually arranged to meet her in Hogsmeade last month. He got down on one knee and told her that he loved her, and that it meant they were..." Harry shuddered, "meant-to-be. Then he asked her for some money so he could buy her a promise ring."

"A promise ring!"

"God this so embarrassing. Not a promise to marry. A promise to clean his room and be her... ahhh... Ronnie-Bunny. You see, when Ron was growing up, all his older brothers were either here at school or off by themselves - you know what the Twins are like. So Ron was pretty much tied to Molly's apron strings, which was pretty much how Molly wanted it. Molly's a very kind woman, but... well... you know how clingy and overbearing she is. And Ron's not the sharpest blade in the drawer, and well... he thinks that's love. Clean his room, eat his veggies, and be hugged by an older woman. It's got to be the most embarrassing and frankly disturbing view of love I can imagine. And I was raised by a pair of abusive psychopaths. Trust me, I can imagine quite a lot." _Oh Gods! That even grossed me out!_

"Dear Lord. That poor poor woman."

"Perhaps. I still think she brought it upon herself, " Harry snorted. "There's a reason her boys flee abroard as soon as they graduate. Still, even Mother Molly could see that this was really really bad, so she reasoned... ahhh... if Ron wanted an older woman to be...ahem... intimate with..." Harry looked very uncormfortable.

"Oh, just spit it out," McGonagall sighed.

"Yes, Ma'am. Molly reckoned if Ron wanted an older woman to be intimate with, better you than her." _Hoo Ha!_

"Not much better," she muttered.

"No, Ma'am. You know, I used to think maybe Molly dropped Ron a few dozen times on his head as a tot, or maybe some of the Twins' pranks went bad. But now I just think he's somehow part Troll. Like maybe the Dark Lord was trying to create a race of defective wizards by polyjuicing Trolls into men and letting them breed with witches. How else do you explain Ron, Crabbe, Goyle, Bulstrode, Flint... The way they talk, the way they act, the way they eat-"

Just at that moment, unconscious Ron lying in his vomit let loose another horrifying wet fart. Harry and McGonagall both shuddered.

"See! Troll-people. Normal wizards don't do stuff like that." _Oh Gods, I have McG believing Ron's a Troll. Classic!_

"I should probably send him home for the year so he doesn't embarass us in front of the foreigners. I just hope it doesn't stunt his magical potential."

"Ahh, Professor?" Harry looked at his feet bashfully. Then he looked back up at her with a horribly guilty expression on his face. _I need to show this memory to Padfoot or he'll never believe I pulled this off. This is one for the ages._ "Hermione and I have sort of been casting his classroom spells for him for the past three years. We didn't want him to fail, and... well, he's not that talented with a wand."

"Mr Potter!" McGonagall shrieked, appalled. _Careful! Go for contrite._

"I'm sorry, Professor," Harry said sheepishly. "He was my friend and I didn't want him to be sent home with his wand snapped. I figured if we could get him through to OWLs and he could pass a couple subjects, like say Divination and Creatures, he could keep his wand and get an Honorable Withdrawl after 5th year. He'd still be considered a wizard. Zounds, it would break Molly's heart if she knew one of her brood was a mentally defective squib. Or a mentally defective squib-Troll."

"Be that as it may, we can't keep him here. I mean honestly," she said pointing at Ron. "We'd be the laughingstock of the Magical World. This could have political repercussions. Arthur might even lose his job. No, I'm afraid I must send him home. Perhaps Molly can make something of him. I believe she has a cousin who's a muggle accountant or some such. Perhaps they can train Ronald up to count muggles. But he clearly can't stay here any longer." _Count muggles! Oh it's such a shame I can't show this to Hermione._

"Yes, Professor. But can he at least keep his wand?" Harry asked with carefully faked concern and a small hiccup.

"I suppose I'll have to test his ability with a wand." McGonagall looked askance at Harry. "A test you won't be aiding him with, Mr Potter. Whether Mr Weasley keeps or loses his wand will be up to him. There comes a point in every wizard's life where he must either sink or swim based on his own abilities. You can not save everyone, Mr Potter."

Harry looked sad but contrite. "I understand, Professor. I truly am sorry. Please don't blame Hermione for any of this. It was my idea and therefore my fault. I pretty much forced her to help Ron. She was very uncomfortable with deceiving you." _Grr. A few tears would've been so great right about now. _

McGonagall smiled and looked fondly at Harry. "You really are your parent's son, Harry. It's the curse of being a Gryffindor. There's a fine line between right and wrong when trying to save someone. Sometimes it's very hard to see where that line lays. Happened to your father with Remus and Severus. Happened to me when I was a young girl, too. Back when I was a fourth year, a Gryffindor lass found herself in a family way, and I moved heaven and earth to hide her disgrace and keep her at Hogwarts. But sadly, just as you have discovered, even the best of intentions sometimes still lead to tragedy. Some things can't be avoided, no matter how much we wish otherwise."

Harry nodded sagely. "Yes, Ma'am. Normally, I'd take Ron to the hospital wing, but I don't think it's in anyone's best interest if he was seen like this."

McGonagall looked afronted. "I should think not! I'll have the Headmaster make a portkey and send Mr Weasley home to his mother. She should be able to care for him until decisions can be made about his future. Please stay with him for a few minutes more. I shall return in a trice."

As McGonagall returned to the castle to get the portkey, Harry caught a glimpse of Ron's wand poking out of his pocket. _Well, if Ron's getting expelled, he won't be needing his wand. And a second wand is always a good thing to have in a pinch. Hmm. And if I replace it with an identical copy... Seems a shame to let a perfectly good Olivander wand get snapped just because it's owner is a traitorous scumbag._ His decision made, Harry cast a _Geminio_ on Ron's wand followed by a switching spell to exchange the two wands. Followed by an overpowered _Scourgify_ on his new wand. A little lemon oil and wand polish and it would be as good as new.

Harry felt a moment of guilt for what was about to happen, but he squashed it down ruthlessly. The only good thing to come out of the Pettigrew fiasco last year was that Harry learned how to deal with betrayers. Harry realized he made a terrible mistake when he stopped Sirius and Remus from killing Pettigrew. Now there was an enemy on the loose, maybe even plotting their demise. No, Sirius and Remus were right. Betrayers must be destroyed as soon as they're discovered.

Harry looked at his newly acquired second wand, now cleaned of Ron's vomit, and decided to win it's loyalty. He closed his eyes and imagined the dragon heartstring disgusted with Ron, for his poor manners, his disloyalty, his utter disregard for his own wand. Ron the glutton and Ron the sloth, unworthy of friendship, unworthy of his own wand. Then he raised his own beloved phoenix wand and spoke to the wand in question.

"Great dragon wand, look at your Master, at his lack of manners, at his lack of worth, at his lack of love for his own wand. Choose your Master, great dragon wand. Ron or me. One that neglects you and has no talent. Or one that would care for you and carry you as a cherished second wand, beloved just as my own phoenix wand. Choose now great dragon wand, that I may claim you as my own."

Instantly, Harry felt a new presence in his magic. A new, happy and great presence that spoke with the wisdom of the dragon it once was and excited to finally have a worthy Master. And Harry was pleased. He had punished the betrayer Weasley: made him pass out sick and shit himself, gotten him expelled from Hogwarts, and now had stolen his wand right out from under him. _Soon, very soon, Ron would fail his test and have his faux wand snapped. Expelled, wand snapped, branded a squib - maybe even a squib-Troll - and I will have my just revenge against the traitor Weasel. I messed up with Pettigrew but I've learned my lesson. From this day forth, let it be known that no one betrays a Potter unscathed._


End file.
